


Tomato Sauce

by GreyMichaela



Series: One-Shots [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Epilepsy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel forgot his glasses and can't read the labels on the cans at the grocery store.  Sam steps in and prevents the imminent nuclear meltdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomato Sauce

It was 1:30 in the morning and Gabriel was having a very bad day.

He squinted again at the can of tomatoes in his hand.  Surely if he just tried hard enough, he’d be able to read it.

His vision fuzzed and blurred and Gabriel hissed a vile curse and slammed the can back on the shelf so hard that the force knocked several other cans off. Grace whined, pawing at Gabriel’s leg as the cans bounced and rolled and Gabriel tilted his head to the ceiling, closed his eyes, and prayed for a swift death.

Death didn’t come, but a store employee did.

“Sir?”

It was a nice voice, Gabriel thought absently—deep and kind, full of concern.

“Sir?” the employee said again.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

Gabriel sighed and opened his eyes.  “I am having the _worst_ day,” he whispered, still staring at the shelf.  “I can’t… I can’t do this, I left my glasses at home and this is so important, I can’t fuck it up, I have to—” His throat clogged up and he stopped to drag in a desperate gulp of air, fighting back the panic.  Grace shoved her nose under his hand, grounding him and helping him regain control.

“Okay,” the young man said, moving into Gabriel’s line of sight.  He was tall— _really_ tall—with shaggy brown hair and green eyes that shone with concern, and his name tag read “SAM” in big block letters.  “What can I do to help?”

“I’m trying to make spaghetti,” Gabriel said numbly.  “I have to… I have to get the right kind of tomatoes, they can’t have cilantro or anything like that, and I can’t _read the cans_ , I’m—” He stopped again, fists opening and closing, as Grace whined again, her plumed tail sagging and ears low with distress.

Sam reached out one hand, hovering just above Gabriel’s shoulder but not quite touching him.  “Can you tell me exactly what you need?” he said carefully.

“I need tomato sauce, but the tomatoes have to be fire-roasted, and there needs to be basil and oregano in it as well.  But _no_ —”

“No cilantro, got it,” Sam said, smiling at him, and Gabriel’s breath caught in his chest in the sight.

Sam didn’t seem to notice, though, turning to peruse the cans on the shelf. “Fire-roasted, but no basil _or_ oregano,” he mused. “Oh, here’s—nope, this one has garlic and onion.”

“Oh, I’ll take one of those,” Gabriel said.  “If we can find another with basil and oregano as well, that’ll work.”

Sam nodded, handing him the can, and went back to looking.  Gabriel busied himself picking up the cans that had fallen as he waited.  Just as he straightened with the last stray can, Sam let out an exclamation, looked closer, and then grabbed a can, brandishing it triumphantly.

“Fire-roasted, basil _and_ oregano, as ordered!” he said, grinning widely.  “I looked at the label—no cilantro anywhere.  Looks like you’re golden, sir!”

Gabriel clutched at the can as relief swamped him.  “Thank you,” he said feelingly.  “You don’t—you just saved my life.  Seriously.” He put two more cans in the cart and turned to hold out his hand to Sam, who took it and shook with a smile.

Sam hesitated as Gabriel and Grace turned to go, though, and Gabriel stopped.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s none of my business,” Sam said, “but why…”

“Why is this spaghetti sauce vital to life?” Gabriel asked.  “Well, basically, my parents are coming in tomorrow. And they’ve been making threats about dragging me home to New York with them if I don’t prove I’m fully stable here.  Which means a boyfriend, perfect delicious food, and clear stability.  I can’t do anything about the boyfriend, since I am perpetually and chronically single, but I can at least cook the fuck out of a delicious meal for them. Maybe that’ll be enough to get them off my back for a few more months.”

Sam’s eyebrows were nearly to his hairline, making his forehead wrinkle in a decidedly _not_ adorable way. “Can I ask…”

“Why I’m twenty-four years old and my parents still have this power over me?” Gabriel said.

Sam grinned. “You’re good, and yes.”

Gabriel shrugged.  “Basically, nutshell version—I have epilepsy.  That’s why the service dog.” He indicated Grace, whose ears perked at the attention. Her tail waved and Sam smiled down at her.

“She’s lovely,” he said.  He clearly meant it, and Gabriel found himself liking him a little bit more.  “I love dogs, but my lease won’t let me have one. She doesn’t look like a usual service dog, though.”

“She’s a saluki,” Gabriel said. “Anyway, Grace and I are doing fine, and we have our routine down and all that jazz.  I haven’t even had an attack in nearly a year.  But I work from home, and it’s not quite enough to cover the rent, so my parents are helping me out while I get back on my feet.  And if I don’t show them that I’m doing okay, that I have my life under control, I won’t—I can’t…”

Sam touched his shoulder this time and Gabriel noted distantly that Grace didn’t object, simply looking between the two men with interest.

“Look,” Sam said.  “How long will your parents be in town?”

“Just one day,” Gabriel said, running his hand through his hair. “Dad’s got a law firm to run, they won’t be able to stay long.”

“Okay,” Sam said.  “How about…” He trailed off as if mustering his courage and then took a deep breath. “How about I come over and be your boyfriend for the day?”

Gabriel stared at him, shell-shocked.  “You… I… we don’t even _know_ each other!” he protested.

“What time are your parents getting in?” Sam asked.

“About 4:30 tomorrow afternoon.  Or today, I guess, since it’s past midnight,” Gabriel said.

“Plenty of time,” Sam said, smiling at him.  “I’m off tomorrow.  I’ll come over in the morning and we can spend the day getting to know each other. Your parents will buy it, I promise, and they’ll back off.”

Gabriel was still staring at him.  “But why would you do that?” he asked.

Sam lifted a shoulder.  “Maybe because I know from controlling parents,” he said.  “Maybe because I like your eyes.  I don’t know.  But I’m not doing anything else tomorrow, and I… I want to help.  Talk to my manager, my coworkers, about me.  They’ll give you character references, so you know you’re not inviting a nutjob into your home.”

Gabriel shook his head as a disbelieving laugh bubbled under his breastbone. “I don’t believe this,” he said. “You _are_ a nutjob, but it might just work.  Are you _sure_?”

Sam smiled at him, slow and sweet under the harsh light overhead.  “Yeah,” he said simply.  “Let’s do this.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested, I can give you a spaghetti sauce recipe that is out of this world good. Find me on [Tumblr](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com) and send me an ask!


End file.
